


Hometown Bound

by whatswronglittlefellow



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - New England, Boston, Cognitive Distortions, Episode: s06e17 Homeworld Bound, Gen, Marijuana, Past Abuse, Steven Universe Has PTSD - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Unreliable Narrator, mild Self-harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24548665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatswronglittlefellow/pseuds/whatswronglittlefellow
Summary: Steven DeMayo, Maine native, visits the Diamant family down in Boston seeking help for his worsening mental state.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Hometown Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Steven DeMayo lives in a small coastal town in Southern Maine. Three years ago, he managed to get his grandmother and aunts to stop harassing his family and seriously reconsider their priorities. One year ago, his dead mother’s former best friend showed up on the DeMayo property and tried to burn the place down. Twice. She failed both times and was adopted by the reformed Diamant family after seriously reconsidering her priorities.
> 
> Steven DeMayo - Steven Universe  
> Sibyl Diamant - Spinel  
> Minerva Diamant - Yellow Diamond  
> Nila Diamant - Blue Diamond  
> Whitney Diamant - White Diamond

Riding the Downeaster, Steven was not in a good place at the moment.

He was riding the Amtrak with nothing on his body but a duffel bag filled with spare clothes and some toiletries, but his baggage included much more than that. He had beaten up a grown woman. A grown bodybuilder who had beaten him in many fights many times before. Who had tried to kill him before. Now he was the one who almost killed her. Nobody knew, though. Nobody was there for the drive to the hospital. Nobody else was in the room while Steven bent over the unconscious body of the woman he once feared so greatly, hoping that she would wake up.

Oh God, he had almost killed a homeless veteran! What the hell was wrong with him? He sent her to the hospital! He drove her there! He could have crushed her skull!

Steven rolled up one of the sleeves of his pink jacket anxiously. He slid his fingers underneath the fabric and pressed his nails into his skin.

He thought about how he kept throwing things at her, even when she stopped looking confident and began to look scared. He remembered picking up a rock and being glad that it was heavy.

He dug his nails into his arm further. The skin was flexible and unyielding. He dragged his fingers up towards his hand, creating the fresh pain that he deserved.

It was not normal to become so angry as to almost kill a human. He was Steven DeMayo. He was a very friendly and calm person. He was the one who forced his cruel grandmother to finally get some therapy. What had made him become such a…

Steven took his fingers out from under his sleeve and rested his hand on his lap. With his other elbow propped up on the windowsill, he rested his chin in his palm and looked at the miserable skinny trees whirling past outside.

There must be something inherently wrong with him, he had realized. Something was wrong with him, and it was related to being a Diamant. He knew it. Mental illness ran in that family. If he was acting so strange because of his mother’s side, then he could get some help from his mother’s side.

That’s why he was taking the Amtrak to Boston. His real family, the people he had grown up with in Maine, could not help him. They didn’t deserve to be burdened with the weight of trying to fix his messed-up mind. He needed to know how to deal with his brain and what came with it. The Diamants could help.

Steven didn’t want to sit alone with his thoughts. His homicidal thoughts. God, maybe he should just get off somewhere in rural New Hampshire and live alone in a cabin or something. That would be better for everyone! He really was irredeemable, wasn’t he?

At least no-one was sitting next to him. He had this two-chair couplet all to himself for three long, lonely hours.

Eventually, the trees yielded to hills, and the hills yielded to cement. As the train crept to a halt under the looming structure of the Bunker Hill Bridge, Steven felt his lips pull into a frown and utter dread pool into his chest. He checked the map on his phone - apparently this threatening structure was called the “Leonard P. Zakim Bunker Hill Memorial Bridge.” _What a mouthful._ Unfortunately, Steven realized with wide eyes that every building and piece of infrastructure that he had seen in Boston prior probably had some official name to it, too. He didn’t want to discover them. He didn’t want to acknowledge that Boston was a real place.

Leaving North Station, Steven noted that the air smelled like metal and barely-disguised fear. Maybe it was just him, though. It was probably just him. Regardless, he didn’t like the glass-panel skyscrapers hovering over his shoulders. He didn’t like the wide busy streets before him. He didn’t like the five-foot-wide sidewalks, or the creaking and sputtering buses, or how there were words everywhere, demanding him to read them, to learn more about this awful place. He couldn’t see the horizon. He couldn’t see anything familiar.

Steven felt as though he was going to die. He didn’t know why.

The boy sighed so deeply that the back of his throat felt dry. He tried to calm his racing heart. He tried to ground his dizzy head. It took all of him not to run away, crying.

It wasn’t so bad anymore! He was safe! Boston was good! Things have improved, he told himself. He put on a smile that quickly became awkward. No-one was looking at him. He had to be happy. He had to be, somehow, sometime, or he didn’t know what he would do with himself.

Riding the Green Line down to Park Street ( _more trains?_ Steven groaned internally) Steven gazed at the impressive apartment buildings the tram rattled past. He felt somewhat drawn to the sleek, massive storefronts. There were bricks everywhere. Bricks and oxidized copper and black iron. Tall white steeples adorned centuries-old churches. They kind of reminded him of the church in his town. The city almost looked… nice.

Steven squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. _No,_ he told himself. _Remember what happened here. Remember all the suffering here. This is not a good place. Think of the people who need help the most._

He forced himself to think of the rotting triple-deckers in Roxbury. He thought about the strip malls spanning next to American Legion Highway. He thought about the homeless people he saw in Back Bay. _There! Looking out for those in need. Just like Classic Steven._

He thought about a white BMW barreling down a narrow street towards him.

_God!_

Steven desperately pressed his pinky nail into the soft flesh of his thigh. He tried to breathe. He tried not to cry. _They are getting better. They are getting better. They are getting better. And it is all thanks to me. It’s all getting better! Everything is getting better!_

_I’m just getting worse._

Suddenly, he felt as though he was standing two inches away from his own skin. He felt silly. He had nothing to worry about. Then the silly feeling faded. He just felt fuzzy, like a cloud.

He walked absentmindedly off the tram. He couldn’t figure out where to go. The Diamants lived in Beacon Hill. Where was that? Was it near Park Street? It must be… why else would he board the Green Line, then…

His brain felt fuzzy. Why was his heart beating so fast?

Steven tried to blink the fuzz away. He saw the State House up the street. That was familiar. Without even thinking, he found himself walking towards the domed building.

On the stately cement steps, Steven’s eyes focused just soon enough to see a woman with cherry-colored pigtails give him an excited smile.

“Steven! _Steven! OVER HERE!_ ”

“Sibyl?” The woman ran up to the boy and hugged him, her arms wrapping around his body like a hungry boa constrictor. She gave him an exaggerated kiss on the cheek. Steven felt like he was either going to shatter like ceramic or blow up like a frozen pine. _This is too much! TOO MUCH!_

He pushed away Sibyl forcefully. “ _What is wrong with you!?_ ” he screamed. His face felt hot. His arms felt cold.

Sibyl grinned, unfazed by his anger. “Oh, you know,” she blinked innocently, “the usual.”

Steven wanted to punch her smile down her throat. He opted to rub his eyes wearily instead. God, he was tired. His whole body had been aching recently.

He was overreacting. That was it. He needed to be kind. This woman deserved his kindness.

“Uh,” he started, looking anywhere but her eyes, “how have things been since, uh…”

“Since I tried to kill you?” Sibyl grimaced. Steven felt his stomach tighten. “That was so embarrassing,” she croaked. “I was just a WRECK back then, but I am so much better now! Thank you for not pressing charges, Steven. Seriously,” Sibyl whispered, her smile gone. “I coulda spent thirty years in jail.

“So!” she gestured widely, her smile returning. “Whaddaya doing here?”

Steven glanced at the ground. “I need to talk to the Diamants,” he said.

Sibyl chuckled. “No kidding” _She knows what you did._ “You never call, you never write!” She trailed off and gave him a teasing glance.

“Yeah…” Steven squeezed his arm. “I’m kind of going through something right now… I’ve been getting really emotional, and my body’s acting like it’s gonna die all the time.”

“Oh!” Sibyl yelped. “If you’re having trouble with your body, I know just who can help!”

Sibyl bounced past Steven and gestured to the park entrance to her left. “Let’s walk through the Common,” she said. “We can catch up!”

“Okay,” Steven agreed. He put his right hand in the pockets of his jacket and heaved the weight of his duffle bag onto his shoulder. With his other hand now free, he put it into his other pocket. Inside his right pocket was the reassuring presence of his phone and some lint that somehow crept underneath his short fingernails. He looked at Sibyl as they began to walk down the asphalt path.

“Sibyl, can I ask you something personal?”

“Sure thing.” Sibyl didn’t make eye contact with him.

“Um, you used to be full of anger and hatred, right?”

Sibyl laughed bitterly.

“Of course! I used to be a happy-go-lucky gal, then I turned into a juvenile arsonist! You should know that.” She was now holding Steven in her steady gaze.

“I know, but like, you improved, right? You're not a juvenile…”

“I’m not a menace to society anymore? Yeh-hyah.”

“What changed?” Steven’s chest felt heavy, like it was a porous substance soaked in tears.

Sibyl twisted her lips thoughtfully. “I changed, Steven. You came to me and said that I could change. You never gave up on me. Even when I tried to burn your house down twice. As… as long as there are people like you in the world, Steven, violence and anger can’t never win.”

Steven felt utterly hopeless. People like him? He was a violent sub-human bursting at the seams. Did she not know? Should she know?

“Thank you,” he said almost breathlessly. Sibyl put her arm around his shoulders. Steven felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. He clenched his fists to keep the anger and fear away.

 _She’s just hugging you. It’s a good thing. It’s a sign of love. She doesn’t deserve to love someone like me. I’m a fraud. I’m not a good person._

“Up here, Steven.” Sibyl withdrew her arm. They had exited the park and crossed a busy road, continuing forwards into a less busy one. When they approached a small dead-end, they took a right down the little street lined with brick sidewalks, brick townhouses, and tiny sidewalk trees surrounded by fences. They stopped in front of an arched doorway. There was a chipped urn filled with dead flowers on the front steps.

“Who lives here?” Steven asked.

“Minerva!” Sibyl grinned. Minerva. Last time he had seen her, she had just quit the police force. That was a year ago.

Sibyl brandished a set of keys. “I got special access,” she winked. She slid the metal slice into the door and opened it with a mischievous cackle.

They only had to climb up a few more stairs to reach the residence.

“MINNY!” Sibyl shouted as she slammed open the front door. They were met with an empty living room. The interior was so much larger than Steven expected. Just the living and dining room combined had more space than his entire house back at home.

“Minerva… lives here?” He asked, scratching the back of his head nervously.

“Yeah! Pretty impressive, huh? C’mon. I know where she is.” Sibyl took Steven’s hand. Her sneakers squeaked as they crossed the hardwood floor.

They reached a door at the end of a hallway pst the kitchen. Steven heard muttering coming from the other side. Without even really thinking about it, he began to formulate an excuse to escape the house if things got out of hand.

Sibyl opened the door. Minerva Diamant, austere and blazer-clad, was sitting at a desk facing a computer and holding a smartphone to her ear.

“Well, I’m glad that you’re satisfied with the program so far. My next available appointment slot is this Thursday, how does that sound? At 3:30 PM? Yes, we’ll formulate a plan from there based on your condition.”

“What are you doing?” Steven asked.

“Oh!” Minerva turned around in her office chair. Once she saw the boy, her face relaxed. “Steven, you startled me! Hm?” She was talking into the phone again. “Oh, that’s my nephew. He’s a gem. Are you set on the appointment date? Alright, I’ll see you then. Goodbye.” She put down the phone and turned her chair back to Steven and Sibyl.

“Steven! It’s so good to see you!” Minerva smiled maternally. “I was just talking to a client. After spending so many years teaching police officers how to hurt others, I thought that the most I could do was try to use my knowledge of anatomy and physiology for good. I’m a fitness coach now, and I must say that I find the job much more emotionally fulfilling.”

“Hey-“

“Oh!” Minerva continued. “If any of your friends want to improve their physical form, send them to me! A good fitness program could really benefit your small town.”

“Minerva’s so cool!” Sibyl exclaimed. “She can figure out why your back hurts all the time-“

“Okay, but-“ Steven tried to get in a word.

“Or she can teach you how to get super duper flexible, like me!” Sibyl demonstrated this by folding into a bridge position on the wall-to-wall carpeting. Steven felt like pulling out his hair. They kept talking, they kept making things scarier, and they kept ignoring him. Their words grated against his ears.

“Hey- Ugh, won’t you guys just _listen to me?! _” He yelled.__

__Sibyl stared at him silently._ _

__“You have the floor, Steven.” Minerva sounded unimpressed._ _

__“Ah–“ Steven looked at his hands desperately. “I’ve been having problems lately… every so often my body acts like it’s going to die, and I’ve been freaking out like I actually _am_ going to die. I can’t live scared all the time!”_ _

__“I see.” Minerva narrowed her hazel eyes. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”_ _

__“Not really, but-but I’m not tired! Well, I am, but that’s not the problem! I feel like I’m dying even though I’m not in any trouble!”_ _

__“How’s your diet, Steven? Sometimes vitamin deficiencies can cause fatigue…”_ _

__“My diet’s fine!” Steven could feel hot tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I’m a vegetarian! I just feel like-“ His breaths began to get more frequent and shallow. _I feel like I’m dying. I feel like I’m losing control over my body.__ _

__“Have you seen a doctor about this?” Minerva leaned forward in her chair, looking incredulous._ _

__“Yes, I ha-“ Steven breathed in deeply. “MY BODY’S FINE! IT’S HOW I _FEEL_ THAT’S WRONG!” A wave of anger exploded in his arm. Steven punched the first inanimate object that he could see. There was a dent in the plaster wall. His knuckles hurt._ _

__Minerva stood up, brow furrowed. “Steven, if anything’s wrong, it’s with your conduct!” she said sternly. “If your problem is emotional lability, then I’m afraid that I can’t help you. That would be Nila’s department.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and have a good day. :-)


End file.
